Page:The Russian Review Volume 1.djvu/252

224 It was six months later, when his wife and his son Vassili come to the prison to bid him farewell, when, in the thin, little old woman, dressed like a beggar, he scarcely recognized his once dignified and stout Elizaveta Trofimovna, when he saw his son dressed in an old, tattered suit, instead of the bright uniform of his school, only then did he realize that his doom was sealed, and that, whatever be the new "decision"' the past would never come back. And for the first time since his trial and imprisonment, he lost the angry expression of his face, and burst into bitter tears.

 

